


Black Eyes & Red Leather - Part 6

by Winchester_with_Wings



Series: Black Eyes & Red Leather - Flash/SPN Crossover [6]
Category: DCU, Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crossoever, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flash/Supernatural, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Murder, OFC - Freeform, Original Character - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Series, Shameless Smut, Smut, demon, demon!reader, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request by @none-of-this-makes-any-sense : Okay so could you do a crossover where the reader is Barry’s gf who is really shy but then gets possessed by a demon… [I have redacted the rest of the request cuz of spoilers hehe]</p><p>Barry Allen's girlfriend (aka you) gets possessed by a demon and must look to the Winchester Brothers for help.</p><p>Part 6 Summary: The truth comes out as you realize Roxanne isn’t who you thought she was. This could put a crimp in your plans to go home to Central City on Friday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Eyes & Red Leather - Part 6

**Author's Note:**

> Roxy is an original character. Sorry no Barry in this part. He will be in part 7 though! Some MAJOR NOTES here: 
> 
> A few words about a Demon!Reader: In SPN…unless your soul is corrupted and you’re turned into a demon like Dean, or unless a demon possesses a person on their deathbed like Ruby 2.0, then when a demon is possessing a person with a human soul, there’s two people in one body!! So when a reader get’s possessed by a demon, the demon is in control of the reader’s body and what she says. The reader is then trapped inside their mind watching themselves say and do things out of their control. The reader speaks inside their mind and the demon is aware of it and chooses whether they want to listen to it. The only person who speaks out loud would be the demon.
> 
> Therefore! You’re basically trapped inside your mind! Everything you willingly say is in italics, everything that your body does and everything that you speak outloud is Roxy’s influence! So essentially you and Roxy have conversations where you say something in your head and Roxy answers out loud in your voice. I hope this makes sense because it’s supposed to be Demon!Reader x Barry, not Roxy x Barry.
> 
> Sorry for the long A/N! Hope ya’ll like it! Feedback is appreciated! :)

There’s no time to scream.

Roxanne tosses her head back with her mouth wide open. A billow of thick black smoke erupts from her throat.  It arches between the two of you and then it forces itself down your throat.

The moment the smoke leaves Roxy’s body and enters yours, Roxy collapses to the ground. Your vision gets hazy and your body becomes numb. You worry that you’re paralyzed. But your body is moving, though not of your own accord.

You want to shout at the woman curled up in a heap on the ground. You want to shout, “Roxy! What the fuck was that!? What just happened!?” But you can’t. You have no voice.

With slow, calm steps, you walk around Roxy’s body; you don’t know why your body is so calm in this situation. Your heart should be racing but instead it’s your mind that’s doing laps. You nudge her shoulder with the tip of your shoe. You kneel down and pick something out of Roxy’s shirt.

You don’t know what it is or why you were compelled to essentially dig into this woman’s bra. It’s a small plastic bag containing a green powder–maybe it’s crushed herbs but you have no idea. You also don’t know why you blow a pinch of the powder over Roxy’s face and mutter some obscure latin words.

Roxy stirs, her eyes fluttering open.

“What the…where am I? What am I wearing?” she asks, looking around at herself and her surroundings. Her eyes fall on you; her eyes are no longer pitch black but a normal shade of brown. “Who are you?” she asks. You want to say your name, but that’s not what comes out of your mouth.

“Oh sweet thing…I’m no one.” Roxy gets to her feet, her legs are wobbly. “You didn’t see me. And you won’t remember me.” You open the door to your motel room as the woman you knew as Roxy starts to walk away. “So long meatsuit! It’s been fun!”

Why did you just call another woman…a “meatsuit”?

The door shuts behind you, but you have the sense that you’re not alone. Not when it feels like someone else is moving your body and speaking for you.

 _“What’s going on? What’s going on?”_ You repeat the question over and over, the words never making it out of your mouth.

You roll your eyes and scoff. Not a single movement or sound you make is your own doing.

“Ugh! Would you shut up?” Your lips speak the words but you also hear them in Roxy’s voice; a disembodied representation within, just like you–trapped in your consciousness and completely helpless. “You’re no longer in control of your body, Y/N,” Roxy speaks through you. “Let yourself feel free to let loose. Trust me, this will be easier if you don’t fight it.”

_“What is this? What are you doing?”_

Roxy moves your body around the room. You strut across the motel room and then lean forward on the table next to the dresser. You look at yourself in the mirror on the wall. You blink and your eyes go black, though your vision isn’t impaired at all.

“You’ve just been possessed by a demon, sweetheart.” A sickening laugh tears itself from your throat.

 

* * *

 

For a couple of minutes, you remain quiet and try to process what this means. Is there a scientific way to explain this? What even is a demon?!

Roxy gives you a run-of-the-mill explanation: “I came from Hell, I possess humans, do whatever I want, corrupt and destroy lives and then move on or keep that human as my meatsuit,” Roxanne sits your body on the edge of the bed and looks at your nails out of boredom.

_“Is your name even Roxanne?”_

“Nope. I take that from the human too. So now I’m…” you look at yourself in the mirror across the room; your eyes are still pitch black, “Y/N…what’s my last name?” You stand up and walk over to your discarded purse. You dump it out on the bed and open up your wallet. “Oh. Not bad. Y/N Y/L/N. Eh…” you shrug, “could be worse.”

_“What did you do to the real Roxanne? After you left her body? What was that powder?”_

“A little bit of witchcraft. She won’t remember anything. It’s how I try to cover my tracks when I don’t want to leave a dead body behind,” the tone of your voice is so indifferent, as if Roxy hadn’t just confessed to murder. You’re sifting through the rest of your purse contents as if you’ve never seen them before. You pick up your phone and start to search through text messages, contacts, pictures. You click on a picture you took of you and Barry laying in bed. It’s a modest picture, you’re both wearing clothes and the sun hits you both just right on that lazy morning. It captures happy smiles and adorable bedhead. “This is Barry huh? Mmm-mmm-mmm,” you lick your lips, “girlll…we have a sexy boyfriend! Damn!” You bite your lip and chuckle.

_“He’s **my** boyfriend!”_

“Uh-uh. Not anymore. We’re sharing him as long as I have control of your actions. Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle with him.” Roxy’s use–your voice’s use–of the word ‘we’ is unsettling. Your hands are roaming up and down your body. “I like our look,” you start to lift the hem of your shirt and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. “Well, the raw material, at least. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

You strip down to your undergarments and then sift through your suitcase. Jeans, Dress slacks, t-shirts, three blouses, nothing interesting. You hadn’t packed for a fun time anyway but Roxy takes in this boring assortment as an evaluation of your entire wardrobe.

“Oh honey, you’re cute but these clothes are drab.” The words don’t sound right coming out of your mouth. You don’t talk like this. “There’s no leather,” you pout. “We’re gonna have to fix that.”

You stand back to examine your body in the mirror. Your underwear is plain black. Your hands slide over your smooth skin, your curves, and into your hair. It’s like you’re putting on a show for yourself. Your body sways and rolls. You bite your lip, give the mirror some bedroom eyes and push your fingers into your thick locks.

“We could be a stripper. It’s been awhile since I did that with a meatsuit. We would definitely make some money.”

 _“No!”_ you protest inside your mind. You wince like your consciousness was loud enough to annoy Roxy.

“Well we’ll at least get you some lingerie.” The sentence is punctuated by the undoing snap of your bra “We need to look our best for Barry…whenever we see him again.” You drag your fingertips down the middle of your chest between your breasts. “Oh baby, we’re going to have some fun,” you giggle and chew on your bottom lip.

 

* * *

 

Apparently demons don’t sleep. So whoever they possess doesn’t get to sleep either.

Not that you feel tired. Roxy’s _demon-ness_ has energized every part of your being so that it doesn’t feel the need to sleep.

The rest of the night was spent watching TV, invading your privacy on your cell phone, and then finally delving into your small briefcase. Roxy can sense how you want to tense up, how you don’t want her looking at that stuff. It only amuses her and has you releasing a devious chuckle.

You spread out all of your notes on the bed, included are some photocopies of the original police files and pictures. You begin to wonder why Roxy is so interested in your work until you remember the details as you hold up a freeze-framed picture of the one of the homicide victims staring at the security camera with black eyes.

Roxy is the black smoke. Roxy committed these crimes!

She knows you’ve made the connection but she won’t answer your questions for a couple more hours.

In the morning, Roxanne picks out an outfit for you. She does your make-up in a style you’d never mastered but looks great on you. It’s strange, staring at yourself in the mirror, seeing you move like you’re a stranger.

“You know, you’re lucky I like you,” Roxy speaks through you while doing your mascara. “I don’t usually let my meatsuits have a voice…in my head,” you chuckle. “Usually I just make the human soul sit back and watch and scream. But this time…it kind of intrigues me. It’s like we’re a collaboration in one body rather than me just being in control.”

 _“Why are you doing this?”_ you ask…Roxanne…yourself…?

“It’s simple really,” you speak as you slip into your shoes and toss everything back into your purse and briefcase. “I needed a new human and you caught my attention. And then I found out you were looking into my case. I have to get rid of everything.”

_“Why?”_

“Because Crowley doesn’t like it when I make a mess,” you frown, shimmy your shoulders, and roll your eyes. It doesn’t sound like Roxanne holds Crowley in high esteem.

_“Who’s Crowley?”_

“The King of Hell,” you grumble.

_“The devil?”_

“No. Lucifer’s locked up. Good riddance too.” You leave your motel room and get into the rented car parked right outside. “The whole apocalypse _thing_ didn’t really sound fun. I prefer a challenge with my humans and chaos.”

You dread the kind of chaos she’s willing to spread while wearing your body.

 

* * *

 

You’re supposed to be at the airport in an hour. Roxy understands that. You figure she wants to leave town too so she complies with your wishes, agreeing to turn in your rented car and check out of the motel but she makes you stop by the police department first.

Roxy’s makeover of your body turns some heads. Her standoffish attitude, which you had so admired, suits you well as you walk to the back room where you’d been working the last two days. There’s a shredding machine in the corner, though you never needed to use it. You assume it was there only because this back room was also sort of a storage room.

Roxy makes sure that you use it. You can’t stop her from making you shred each and every note that you’ve taken in regards to this unusual case.

“Your boss isn’t going to be looking into these crimes,” you say to yourself (Roxy says to you). Then your attention is turned to the actual case files.

 _“What are you going to do?”_ you ask.

“What I was doing when I was caught on tape,” you grumble, speaking Roxy’s response. “Cover my tracks, tie up loose ends, get rid of evidence,” you murmur. The door is cracked so at least Roxy is sensible with controlling the volume of your voice. You open up the laptop lent to you by the department. You delete the surveillance videos.

“Agents Grohl and Cobain. We’re here from the FBI to talk to you about some recent disappearances and a double homicide?”

You overhear a man’s deep voice speak. They’re all too close to the door where you’ve just destroyed the evidence they would like to see. You chew on your bottom lip while you start to pack up your briefcase. You take the small evidence bag of sulfur and stick it in your pocket. Roxy’s reaction to the man’s voice has your heart racing.

“Oh really? Funny! We’ve got someone here from Central City looking into that case too,” says one of the officers.

“Fucking Winchesters,” you hiss under your breath. “We’re out of here.” You whirl around and head for the door. A few steps out of the room and you’re met with the officer and two tall, handsome men in suits.

They flash FBI badges which are shiny enough to only momentarily distract from their handsome faces. They’re probably five or six years older than you. One has what you’d imagine to be the standard issue short hair, the color of a dirty blonde or light brown. The other, the taller one, the one who seems to be doing the talking has long, almost shoulder-length brown hair. They both have chiseled, stubbled jaws and eyes that speak of burden and sacrifice.

“Hi Miss Y/L/N, these are Agents Grohl and Cobain from the FBI,” the officer says, obviously he didn’t know you’d been eavesdropping. Those names sound familiar too. Didn’t Roxy says ‘Winchester’ earlier? “Sounds like they’re investigating the same case as you.” The one with the not-so-standard FBI haircut extends a hand. You shake both of their hands.

“We’d like a moment of your time, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps we can help each other out?” Agent Cobain, the tallest one, says. You shrug as Roxy comes up with an explanation.

“I’m actually done with the case. It’s all yours.”

“Oh, really? Did you solve it?” Agent Grohl asks. He’s the one with short hair and eyes that are greener than Barry’s. Of course, you prefer Barry’s.

“No,” you give them a tight smile that you would’ve given them even if you weren’t possessed by a demon. Feds always think they’re better than local PD and any case they stick their nose into must be _impossible_ for local cops to solve. “It’s just not what my department thought it was. We specialize in scientific anomalies.” Roxy had you research Central City metahumans when your body should’ve been sleeping last night. “And this case just doesn’t fit the bill. I was just finishing up my notes. So, uh, I hope you have better luck.” You salute give them an informal, off the side of your brow salute. “Agents.” You snake your way around the two large men who are smirking at your curt response.

You’re out of there in a less than a minute. You don’t know who those men are but Roxy’s hurried and irritated reaction to their presence suggests they’re a threat. But who could possibly be a threat to a demon?

There’s no time to ask about it because one moment you’re standing on the corner in a small town in Nebraska and then the next second, you pop up on a street corner in New York City.

“Shall we go shopping?” Roxy speaks for you, outloud and blissful, like a fugitive no longer on the run.

_“I guess I’m gonna miss my flight out of Omaha.”_


End file.
